I remember the first time someone asked me, “Do you have storage wars?” with a gleam of excitement in their eyes. They had seen it on television—auctioneers shouting, treasure seekers digging through forgotten belongings, striking gold in the form of antique furniture or collectibles. To them, it looked thrilling, even glamorous. But for those of us who run storage facilities, the reality is far from the excitement the cameras portray. The truth is, storage auctions are heartbreaking for us.
Every item in a unit once belonged to someone. It held memories, significance, a story. But sometimes, for reasons beyond our understanding, a customer stops paying. They stop answering calls, emails, letters. We try. We really do. We send notices, reach out in every way possible. But when months pass and there’s still silence, we have no choice but to reclaim the space. It’s not greed or indifference—it’s the necessity of running a business.
The process of disposing of someone’s possessions is gut-wrenching. As we sort through the items, we can’t help but imagine the lives behind them. A child’s first pair of shoes, handwritten letters, photo albums thick with memories—each piece is a thread from a life once lived. And the hardest part? Knowing that in some cases, these aren’t just forgotten things; they belong to someone who has fallen on hard times or who simply didn’t have the means to hold on to them.
Years ago, the previous owners of our facility made a heartfelt decision: to do their best to preserve the most personal remnants of people’s lives. Instead of discarding photographs, personal letters, or treasured memorabilia, they set aside a special unit dedicated to safeguarding these irreplaceable pieces. They would wait, hoping that one day, someone would return, searching for a lost connection to their past.
Recently, as we carefully sifted through the memorabilia unit, we stumbled upon something truly unexpected—something profoundly personal. Two small, unassuming boxes sat among the other keepsakes, yet their contents carried the weight of an entire lifetime. One held a man’s ashes, a final resting place tucked away and forgotten. The other contained wedding rings and delicate mementos, tangible echoes of a love story that had spanned decades.
We couldn’t turn away from this. It wasn’t just about lost belongings—it was about someone’s legacy, a lifetime of love and memories. We made a solemn promise to do everything in our power to reunite these treasures with the family they rightfully belonged to.
The search was difficult, but after hours of scouring the internet, we finally found him—a son. When we reached out, his response was immediate, raw with emotion. “My sibling took over my mother’s affairs when she was elderly and cut off all contact with me,” he said, his voice trembling with a mix of sorrow and disbelief. “I had no idea they had put Mum and Dad’s things in storage—all the precious pieces of their lives, of our family. Our entire history, packed away in boxes and forgotten. I have nothing of them—not a single photograph, not a letter, nothing to hold onto. Please, please don’t let it go. I’m on my way now.”
When he arrived, he held the boxes like they were the most delicate things in the world. He had lost so much, but in that moment, he had something back—a connection to his parents, a tangible piece of his past. And for us, for all the heartache that comes with this job, this was a moment of peace. A moment where we knew we had done something right.
Storage facilities aren’t just about space. They hold stories, fragments of lives, whispers of love and loss. And while we can’t always prevent the heartbreak, we can do our best to honour the memories left behind. Because at the end of the day, it’s not about storage wars—it’s about people.
“Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.” — David Ogden Stiers
